So after Micmac John left him on Friday night he prepared for an early
start to the caribou feeding grounds on Saturday morning.
We have seen the route he took across the lakes and timbered flats and
marshes to the place where he pitched his camp in the little clump of
diminutive fir trees almost twenty miles from his tilt. It was evening
when he reached there and up to this time, to his astonishment, he
had seen no signs of caribou. A few miles beyond the marsh he saw a
ridge of low hills running east and west and decided that the feeding
grounds of the animals must lie the other side of them.
He banked the snow around the tent to keep out the wind, broke an
abundant supply of green boughs for a bed, and cut a good stock of
wood for the day of rest. Two logs were placed in a parallel position
in the tent upon which to rest the stove that it might not sink in the
deep snow with the heat. Then it was put up, and a fire started, and
he was very comfortably settled for the night.
The unfamiliar and unusually bleak character of the country gave him a
feeling of restlessness and dissatisfaction when he arose on Sunday
morning and viewed his surroundings. It was quite different from
anything he had ever experienced before and he had a strong desire to
go out at once and look for the caribou, and if no signs of them were
found to turn back on Monday to the tilt.
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